SoulePapa Blogs: The Past is Present

We've spent countless hours in this park nearby. It is a hidden gem, visited only by a handful of "regulars" walking their dogs or strolling amongst the crumbling ruins of a fading moment in time. I am captivated by this picture that Amanda found. From the late 1800's to around 1930 this place drew people from all over New England to come dance in the casino(background), watch live entertainment in the outdoor amphitheatre or just walk the expansive grounds and socialize. Some came by riverboat. My wonderful late grandmother, Margaret, told of riding the trolley here, as a girl, from downtown.Now, when my kids tread over this bridge, I have to caution them to be careful of the hole, worn through the concrete over nearly a century of rain, floods, snow and ice. They ask questions that I struggle to answer about how a place so important could be left to such a fate.Somehow, I don't find this a sad place. We build bridges and dams in the spring-fed stream with bricks that have fallen from their places. We explore every corner. Climb granite steps, crooked and broken. Ride bikes down the trails and play in the mudholes where the trout pond used to be. As grand as it was, I am happy to have it as it remains. A small window to our past.

Comments

SoulePapa Blogs: The Past is Present

We've spent countless hours in this park nearby. It is a hidden gem, visited only by a handful of "regulars" walking their dogs or strolling amongst the crumbling ruins of a fading moment in time. I am captivated by this picture that Amanda found. From the late 1800's to around 1930 this place drew people from all over New England to come dance in the casino(background), watch live entertainment in the outdoor amphitheatre or just walk the expansive grounds and socialize. Some came by riverboat. My wonderful late grandmother, Margaret, told of riding the trolley here, as a girl, from downtown.Now, when my kids tread over this bridge, I have to caution them to be careful of the hole, worn through the concrete over nearly a century of rain, floods, snow and ice. They ask questions that I struggle to answer about how a place so important could be left to such a fate.Somehow, I don't find this a sad place. We build bridges and dams in the spring-fed stream with bricks that have fallen from their places. We explore every corner. Climb granite steps, crooked and broken. Ride bikes down the trails and play in the mudholes where the trout pond used to be. As grand as it was, I am happy to have it as it remains. A small window to our past.

Welcome!

I'm Amanda Blake Soule. Mama of five, blog and book writer, magazine editor, and maker of all kinds of things. It's a pleasure to share here our family homesteading adventures, the things we make, and what inspires our days. Read more about my family and work
here. I thank you for visiting!